


Some of the Hazards of Shopping

by der_tanzer



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-12
Updated: 2011-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray always comes home from the hardware store with more than he intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some of the Hazards of Shopping

There had never been a worse moment in his life for Murray to get pulled over. He was right on the brink of finishing a prototype that _had_ to be in the mail tomorrow if he was going to keep his provisional patent, and just like that his soldering iron stopped heating up. He could fix it, sure, but it might take hours. It might even take parts. No, with this deadline hanging over his head, the safest course of action was to run to the store and get a new one. And now he here was about to lose a patent that could keep him and his friends for a year.

Well, he thought as he steered the Jimmy into a parking lot and stopped, at least he already had the new iron. However long the cop kept him, it would just have to come out of his sleeping time. He tried to calculate how long it would take to have the requisite do-you-know-why-I-stopped-you-sir conversation and get the ticket for whatever it was he did, and then he glanced up into the mirror. With a sinking heart, he saw that he might not make it home at all.

“That was some fancy driving you did back there, Bozinsky.”

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I didn’t know you still did patrol duty. That’s a nice squad car. Is it new?”

“Shut up.” Quinlan wasn’t about to tell him how pissed he was at being on patrol. One of the officers was entered in an amateur stock car race and half the department had mysteriously come down sick just this morning. Quinlan had already decided to commandeer the security tapes from the track entrances and dock every officer he saw in the crowds, but that was for later. Right now he just wanted someone to take it out on, and that would be harder to do if his victim sympathized with him. Not impossible, but certainly harder than he cared for.

Murray looked up at him, still trying to smile, but there was fear in his eyes. Quinlan, not understanding the source of that fear, assumed it was for him and reveled in it.

“You don’t even know what you did, do you?”

“I—no, Lieutenant, I don’t. I’m sorry, I have a very important project waiting at home and I guess I was distracted. Can you just give me a ticket and let me go?”

“I don’t know yet. Get out of the car.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out of the car.”

“Okay,” he said, reaching for his seatbelt with trembling hands. “But, please, I really need to get home.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?” Quinlan smirked. He gave Murray a few seconds to get the door open and start to step out of the car, then grabbed his arm and yanked him roughly to his feet.

“I told you, I have a project. It _has_ to be done tonight. I had to get a new soldering iron to finish and—and now I need to get home.”

“Well, you almost got yourself killed at that last intersection. Making a right turn on a red light is only really legal when no one’s coming. Not only did you cut off a six ton U-Haul, it damn near ran you down.”

“Oh. The driver should have honked,” Murray said, looking back at the intersection as if the truck would still be there.

“He did. And so did about four other people. If paying attention was the same as seeing, you’d need a German shepherd and a funny white stick to find your own ass. Are you even hearing me right now?”

“Yes, I hear you. I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I really need to get home. You don’t know how important this is. Please, just give me the ticket.”

Hot, angry, joy filled Quinlan’s heart and shone from his eyes as he grinned.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten through to you, Bozinsky. See, I can tell you’re gonna get back in that car and drive off still thinking about whatever gadget you’re playing with at home, and you won’t be paying any more attention at the next light than you were at the last one.”

“No, I will,” Murray pleaded, desperate now. “Please, I’ll be careful. Just give me—”

“No, I’m not letting you off with a ticket. You’re going in. Get your keys.”

“What? No, Lieutenant Quinlan, you don’t understand. I _have_ to get home. If I don’t have it ready by morning—”

“I don’t give a shit when you finish it. Get your keys and let’s go.”

Murray was shaking harder as he leaned back into the Jimmy and pulled the keys from the ignition. Without thinking, he grabbed the paper bag containing the soldering iron before he straightened up. Quinlan took it and laid it on the hood, pocketed the keys, and spun Murray swiftly against the side of the car. He’d have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed the top of the door, and he nearly fell anyway when Quinlan jerked his hand off the door and behind his back. He was cuffed almost before he knew it, tripping and stumbling along as Quinlan dragged him over to the squad car.

“Wait,” Murray cried. “Please, at least let me bring the soldering iron. Don’t leave it here. Someone will take it.”

Quinlan didn’t answer, but after he’d shoved Murray into the back of his car and slammed the door, he went back and got it. All the way to the police station, Murray begged and pleaded for mercy, trying to explain what he was doing at home and how very urgent it was that he finish. Though Quinlan rather enjoyed hearing him grovel, he had no interest in the project and no intention of letting Murray go home tonight. Still, when he arrived at the precinct and dragged Murray out of the car, he picked up the soldering iron and took it along.

“Where is everyone?” Murray asked as he stumbled through the door, noticing there were only a few female sergeants typing reports and answering the phones. The patrol cops were gone and there was no rank at all besides Quinlan.

“They all took the day off,” he said flatly, hustling Murray down a deserted hall and into the holding area where he would be photographed, fingerprinted, and jailed. Murray struggled to keep up, fighting Quinlan’s practiced ability to jerk him off balance every time he almost had his footing, and was relieved to be dropped into a chair.

“Please, Lieutenant. _Please_. Nick and Cody are out of town and I don’t have anyone to bail me out, but I _have_ to get home. I have so much work to do. Please, can’t you give me a ticket or a fine or—or take away my driver’s license and let me call a cab. Here, I’ll give it to you right now. Anything, Lieutenant. I’ll do anything you want, just let me go home.”

It finally sank into Quinlan’s consciousness that this thing the kid kept babbling about was extremely important to him, but it didn’t stir any pity in his heart. All it did was give him an idea.

“Anything, huh?”

“Yes,” Murray cried, suddenly hopeful. Quinlan stepped closer, looked down into his sweat-shining face, and saw a glistening film of tears in his soft brown eyes. “Please, anything. I—I’ll do community service. I’ll paint your house, clean out the cells every day for the rest of the year, wash all the patrol cars, anything.”

“We have staff for that,” Quinlan said thoughtfully. He cupped Murray’s cheek in his palm and studied the pale, panicky face. Murray stared up into those heartless blue eyes and his breath stopped in his throat.

“Lieutenant?” he whispered, unconsciously licking his lips. A thousand emotions flickered across his face in subtle blinks and twitches, enough of them agreeable so that Quinlan’s anger suddenly evaporated.

“Does anything mean—this?” he asked, snaking his hand around behind Murray’s neck. He gripped a fistful of hair and pulled Murray’s head back, extending and exposing his vulnerable throat. Murray drew a quick gasp that sounded more surprised than anything else and Quinlan bent down, nipping him swiftly just below the jaw. Murray gasped again, his whole body tensing, and Quinlan didn’t know what that meant. He nipped the smooth skin again and then pressed his lips softly to Murray’s pulse, feeling his racing heart.

“If—if I get you off, will you let me go?” he whispered. Quinlan licked the salt from his skin with a chuckle.

“Is that a bribe?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” Murray said helplessly. He had a contract and if he could just preserve this patent uninterrupted, Cody wouldn’t have to worry so much about taking care of his mother. Maybe he could hire a housekeeper for her, and then he and Nick could stay home more. But only if he got out of here now.

“You’d really do that just to get out of a night in jail?”

“I told you, it’s important. I have to finish my project.”

Quinlan released his hair and stepped back, leaning his hip against the edge of a desk.

“Who else are you fucking?” he asked, missing casual indifference by just an inch.

“What?”

“You heard me. You want to get out of here, you answer my questions. Who are you fucking?”

“No one, right now. Not—not for a while,” he confessed, his pale cheeks suddenly burning.

“Because they’re out of town?”

“What?” Murray finally managed to look him in the eyes, puzzled and hoping for clarification. Then it hit him and he blushed hotter. “No. No, not Nick or Cody. They’re not interested in me.”

“Then who is?” Quinlan persisted.

“I won’t name names,” he said staunchly.

“That means you been doing guys, right?” He pushed himself off the desk and loomed over Murray, who shrank back helplessly in his chair.

“Lieutenant, please. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. _Anything_. Just let me go.”

“Answer the question. Are you fucking guys or girls?”

Murray swallowed hard, struggling with himself for an answer. The last thing he wanted to do was out himself to this cold, cruel man, but he had to say something and he knew Quinlan would recognize a lie.

“I—I like men,” he said quietly, dropping his eyes.

“Do you like me?” Quinlan asked, his low voice harsh and jeering. But there was something else on his face, if only Murray had looked up to see it.

“No,” he said flatly, still staring at the floor. “You treat me like a criminal no matter what I do. You’re a bully and you abuse your power every chance you get. I always thought people chose police work because they wanted to help others, but you don’t. You just want power. Like you have over me right now.”

“Uh-huh. So you ain’t really that interested in going home after all, are you?”

“I said I’d do whatever you want. But I won’t lie. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.” There was a brief silence, during which Murray stared at the floor and waited, his face burning, his pulse pounding in his ears. The next thing he knew, Quinlan was grabbing his upper arm and dragging him out of the chair. He shoved Murray into the nearest cell and left the door open. Murray listened to his footsteps leaving the cell and then looked up. Quinlan was locking the door to the holding area. Murray swallowed again, his mouth suddenly dry as paper.

When he came back, he unfastened Murray’s handcuffs and hooked them on his belt where they belonged. As he was leaving the cell, Murray finally spoke.

“Aren’t you going to book me?”

“You’re real anxious for another arrest on your record, ain’t you?”

“I wish you’d make up your mind, Lieutenant. Are you going to book me or fuck me?”

“Which do you want?” Quinlan leered, leaning now on the doorway of the cell.

“I said I’d get you off if you let me go,” Murray said softly. “Is that good enough?”

“It’ll do for now.” He straightened up and stepped inside, unaccountably pleased that Murray didn’t back away. However it went, the geek was prepared to take it like a man and that made him even more attractive. Quinlan touched his face again, calloused fingers stroking his cheek almost tenderly before sliding around the back of his neck to pull his head down for a kiss.

Murray allowed it, eyes closed, neither participating nor resisting. He hadn’t expected anything intimate, but it wasn’t exactly distasteful. The lieutenant was a good kisser. After a few seconds, he parted his lips and felt a tingle in his chest as Quinlan’s tongue flicked against his. Oh, that wasn’t bad, he decided. He could do this. It wouldn’t hurt and it would get him home. Besides, he would have something on Quinlan afterward—blackmail, extortion, the knowledge of his secret desires. That was a little bit exciting, and before he knew it he was kissing back.

Quinlan pushed him up against the wall and slid one hand up under Murray’s shirt, caressing his smooth skin and tweaking his nipple until he moaned. Hearing himself, Murray blushed again but didn’t break the kiss. He had to do this anyway, he _had_ to get home, so he might as well enjoy it. The thought of enjoying an intimate sexual act with Lieutenant Quinlan was sort of funny and he smiled a little to himself. Quinlan, feeling the smile and thinking it was for him, dropped his hand to Murray’s waist and then gently squeezed his ass. Murray felt his cock stir in response and pressed it lightly against Quinlan’s, oddly gratified to feel a reciprocating hardness growing. He was suddenly thinking less about buying off the Lieutenant and more about actually pleasing him, though the strangeness of that hadn’t occurred to him yet. When Quinlan’s hands went to Murray’s belt buckle, he wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders and breathed an eager little moan.

Only when one strong hand slipped inside his jeans did Murray remember that he was supposed to be doing the work. But if Quinlan wanted to touch him first, if he gained some excitement by giving pleasure, that was okay. The rough, practiced grip on his cock drew another small moan, and when Quinlan laughed against his mouth he felt a sudden loosening in his joints, a rush of blood to his groin, and realized he wanted this. Not just because he needed to go home, but because he wanted to get laid first. He wanted this harsh, forceful man to have him. Maybe he’d wanted that all along. Maybe that’s why he’d been so willing to say _anything_ , and keep saying it even when he knew what it meant.

“You like that?” Quinlan whispered against his throat.

“Yes,” he breathed, thrilling to the realization that it was true. He couldn’t remember the last thing he’d liked this much. Those calloused but oddly gentle hands pushed his shirt up almost to his neck, and then Quinlan was kissing his chest, teasing his nipples erect and licking softly over his ticklish ribs. Murray sighed, soft and wanting, bucking eagerly into his hand.

Quinlan straightened up, still stroking him, and kissed his lips again. Only then did Murray reach for Quinlan’s fly, fumbling his belt open with trembling fingers and slipping the buttons free. He felt the hard flesh beneath damp cotton and squeezed gently, thrusting his hips so their hands were caught between them in exquisite pressure. This time it was Quinlan who moaned, low and hungry. Murray pulled back slightly and pushed the other man’s jeans down his thighs. Quinlan moaned again, then paused and stepped backward. Murray tried to follow and was pushed back roughly against the wall.

“Stop it. That’s enough,” Quinlan said, pulling up his pants. Now he was the one keeping his eyes down, refusing to meet Murray’s worried gaze.

“What’s wrong? What did I do? Please, if you don’t like that, I’ll do something else.”

“Never mind. Just get out of here. Go home.”

“You—you don’t want me anymore? I don’t understand.” Murray was buckling his belt, his hands shaking with furious shame.

“Not like this. Turns out I ain’t that big a bastard. Go home.”

“What if I don’t want to? Wouldn’t it be worse if I left, Lieutenant? I, for one, think it would make things a lot more awkward at my next arrest.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Can’t we finish what we started? I mean, I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been with anyone in so long…not since I first started at Dyna-Games.”

“What’s that? Dyna-Games?”

“The place I worked before I came here.”

“So it’s been a couple years,” Quinlan said dryly. He was beginning to recover himself and his cock stirred mildly with renewed interest.

“Four or five,” Murray confessed. “It’s so hard to meet people…”

“Yeah, it is. Small towns, lotta gossip… Still, I shouldn’t have tried extortion. I’ve got better sense than that. It just seems to disappear when I get too close to you.”

“I have that problem, too.” Murray stepped toward him, holding out his hand, and Quinlan met him halfway. The next thing he knew, Murray’s back was up against the wall and Quinlan was pulling his belt open and unbuttoning his fly. Murray tried not to thrust and make it more difficult, but his cock was hard inside his loose-fitting jeans and Quinlan’s hands irresistibly near. The lieutenant paused for a moment to squeeze him through the denim, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss as he gasped. Then Quinlan was shoving Murray’s jeans to his knees and crouching before him. He nearly collapsed when he felt the wet mouth envelop him, and only his hands on Quinlan’s shoulders held him up.

“Oh, that’s good,” he whispered, because it was, and because Quinlan deserved to hear it. “Oh, yesss,” he hissed as he was swallowed deep, his clenched fingers bunching the shoulders of Quinlan’s neat polo shirt. “That’s so good… I’m gonna come, Ted. I—I’m gonna—” And then he did. After four years, his whole body was on a hair trigger. He cried out frantically, trying to pull away, but Quinlan held onto his hips and kept sucking, nursing him through his climax. Murray slumped against the wall, panting as his vision doubled and he struggled not to fall down. He barely noticed Quinlan pulling his shoes off and lifting his feet out of the bunched legs of his jeans. He only knew that when Quinlan told him to turn around, his voice was oddly muffled but his guiding hands were steady.

Murray turned and braced his hands against the wall, still breathing hard. He didn’t know what was happening, if this was some sort of arrest fantasy or if the lieutenant just wanted to look at his ass, but he didn’t care. He let his head hang between his arms, ribs heaving, all of his consciousness focused on not dropping where he stood. Just as it began to seep into his mind that he should say something, thank you, maybe, he felt Quinlan’s rough but gentle hands on his ass, first kneading and then spreading his cheeks. His soft groan turned into a startled gasp as Quinlan kissed his tight pucker and then slowly dribbled Murray’s own semen down his crack. He’d never experienced such a thing before, but he could tell what it was, thick and sticky and slick, being worked up inside him by a strong, eager tongue.

Murray groaned louder as a rough but remarkably tender finger followed, skillfully caressing pleasure points that Murray hadn’t known he had. Only one other man had ever touched him there and it hadn’t been like this. He thrust helplessly, arching his back and letting his hands slide down the wall until he felt the blunt fingertip strike his prostate. A bolt of electricity shot up his spine and he let out a little shriek. That was something else that had never happened before and he couldn’t help thrusting as Quinlan massaged him firmly. The sensation doubled and trebled as a second finger entered him, probing and stroking, stretching his hole and spreading slick semen for lube.

Murray rocked and thrust, groaning when he could no longer hold back, watching his own sweat drip and puddle on the concrete floor, biting his lips to keep from voicing his splintered thoughts. He didn’t feel safe to speak until Quinlan withdrew his hand and pressed the fat, plump head of his cock to Murray’s twitching hole.

“Don’t hurt me,” he whispered. “Please.”

“Is this your first time?” Quinlan murmured against his back. He was steadying his own leaking cock with one hand, holding it there to add slickness, and the other snaked around Murray’s waist.

“Yes. Please don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t,” he said and pressed gently inside. Murray’s initial groan of pleasure turned to a whimper, causing the pressure to ease immediately, though the thick shaft didn’t withdraw.

“Promise?”

“I promise. And if you want to stop, just say so. Just one word.”

“Okay,” Murray breathed, relaxing his body one muscle at a time. Quinlan pulled back a fraction, stretching his little hole anew, and then slid forward inch by agonizing inch. Murray hissed and moaned, moving his hips to relieve the sharp burn, pulling off when he needed to, but never all the way. And when he pushed back again, Quinlan was always right there, holding and petting him, never backing down. After a few strokes the burn receded and he began angling his body to make the thick, iron-hard shaft reach his gland. He didn’t yet know enough about the anatomy of sex to know exactly what his pleasure center was, but he remembered where to find it. He cried out when Quinlan struck it and thrust back hard for more.

“Easy, baby,” the lieutenant whispered. “Don’t let me hurt you.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt—it’s good. I—I’m going to come again.”

“Yeah? Good, ‘cause so am I.”

“Fuck me then, Ted. Fuck me hard.” Murray dropped his hand to his own cock and began to jerk himself rapidly, still leaning heavily on his other arm. Quinlan pulled back and drove in fast and deep, reaching down as he did to fondle Murray’s swollen balls. “Oh,” Murray sobbed, rocking hard on the invading cock. “Oh jeez, oh jeez, oh jeez, oh _fuck_ ,” he choked out and came again, his body convulsing as the last drops of thick semen dribbled over Quinlan’s hand.

Quinlan kept squeezing and stroking as his own orgasm tore through him, dragged out by Murray’s rippling, clenching muscles and the desperate passion of his cries. He’d known it wouldn’t last long, but he’d been hoping for more than two minutes. It had felt like mere seconds, and knowing it might be a one-time thing made him stand there buried deep in that tight, hot body for as long as his trembling legs would hold him. He wrapped both arms around Murray’s waist and raised him upright, holding the narrow, sweaty back to his chest as he lowered himself to his knees. Murray lay limp in his arms, his head lolling on Quinlan’s shoulder, the hard shaft still clenched tightly in his ass. Eventually he turned his head and brushed Quinlan’s neck with his lips, giving the older man hope.

“Did you really want to?” he asked and was surprised when Murray laughed.

“Of course I did. Couldn’t you tell?”

“But you’d have let me fuck you to get out of jail even if you didn’t?”

“If you could. I’m not sure that would have worked without my cooperation. It was pretty tight, wasn’t it?”

“It still is.” Murray started and moved as if to rise, but Quinlan held him back. “No, I like it. If you do, that is.”

“Mmm,” was the rather noncommittal but still pleased reply. “Is someone going to come in and catch us?”

“No. Door’s locked and the desk staff should be headed home. But you got important work to do tonight, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I really do.” Murray caught Quinlan’s face in one hand, turned him a little to the right, and kissed him softly on the mouth. “And you can still give me a ticket if you want to.”

“Shut up. Go on, clean yourself up and go home,” he said with mock sternness.

Murray rose carefully, hissing at the sting, and crossed the cell to get some tp. He washed in the sink and redressed while Quinlan did the same.

“You know,” Quinlan said with forced casualness, studying his belt as if he couldn’t quite remember how it worked. “My shift’s over in a couple hours if you wanted to get some dinner or something. You must be lonely with your friends away.”

“Sometimes. But tonight I really need to work on my prototype. I’ll be at it all night as it is. I’m sorry.”

“Sure, no big deal. Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to your car.” His tone and posture both spoke volumes of disappointment, and Murray realized he’d misunderstood. Quinlan really thought the project was a scam from start to finish, first to get out of jail and then to get out of this.

“I’m serious, Ted. I’m building a handheld book scanner/reader for the visually impaired and I have to ship the prototype in the morning to keep my provisional patent. But the guys are going to be gone for a few more days, so if you wanted to do something tomorrow, that would be different.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. In fact, I’d really like to, you know, get together again.”

“Okay, tomorrow. I’ll be off at six.” He washed his face in the sink and dried it with a swatch of tp. Murray followed him out of the cell and waited while he unlocked the door. “Oh, hey,” Quinlan said suddenly, turning and nodding toward the desk. “Don’t forget your soldering iron. That’s what you did all this for, right?”

“It started out that way, I guess,” Murray grinned, reaching for the paper bag. “But you know how it is. You go to the hardware store for one thing, but you never know what else you’ll pick up.”


End file.
